


rise and shine, or dream a little longer

by cherotonin



Series: this universe gave me a gift (of course, that gift was you) [2]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, also a thinly veiled love letter to my gf oops, i gave myself cavities by writing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-25 10:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21354613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherotonin/pseuds/cherotonin
Summary: “Wait, don’t just ignore the part where I talk about how I admitted my feelings for you last night,” Peter protests without thinking, and as soon as he registers the wordsadmitted my feelings for youleaving his mouth he claps his hands over the bottom half of his face and sinks with a groan forward into the mattress. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. This is not real. I’m dreaming and when I wake up you’ll be gone and I’ll be alone again so I can sit and think about how embarrassing my very not real dream was. This isn’t really happening.”Peter wakes, and deals with the consequences of losing his brain-to-mouth filter late at night.(a sequel tonighty night)
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: this universe gave me a gift (of course, that gift was you) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539475
Comments: 9
Kudos: 269





	rise and shine, or dream a little longer

Normally, Peter is the type who’s asleep one moment and then awake the next. It’s a split-second change, like the flip of a switch: his eyes are shut, until they’re not, and then no matter what he tries to do or how he feels about waking, the day’s off to its start.

It’s been that way since the spider bite that changed his life, which Peter figures makes sense, since that’s when his new, sixth sense for danger originated too. He doesn’t get the luxury of sleepy mornings or lounging in bed most of the time, because his body wants to make sure, as soon as he’s awake, that he’s in a safe environment.

It would be a sweet sentiment, if it weren’t his body that was making this decision without any input from his brain. Or if Peter weren’t a normal(ish) human being who just wants to lay in bed and relax sometimes. Like, in the mornings before class, on the rare occasion that he’s gotten enough sleep to fool himself into believing he could be an early riser.

Peter opens his eyes. _Class._ Ugh. That’s right. Checking his phone reveals that it’s way earlier than expected – apparently getting to bed before 3am will, indeed, do that for you – but at this point, he’s already awake. He huffs out a breath.

Apparently that breath is all it takes, because the moment he’s finished exhaling, a deep voice sing-songs “Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” from somewhere out of his field of view.

It startles him, but he doesn’t flinch, which is extraordinarily weird, for a number of reasons, which Peter’s sleep-dazed brain begins to lay out, since Aunt May always says that it helps clear the mental clutter:

a) Peter can’t get startled. He literally can’t. Mary Jane, bless her heart, tried to throw him a surprise party once a few years back, before she moved to LA, and his freaking spidey-sense picked up on what was happening before he even stepped foot into the hallway of his building.

(He tried to still act like he was surprised, but MJ picked up on it as soon as she saw his “surprised face” and took pity both on him and his acting. Well, that’s why she’s the one in Hollywood, not him.)

b) Peter also doesn’t _not_ flinch at things. Even small things elicit some kind of response from him, like stepping on crackers or watching a traffic light change when he’s not expecting it. Wade actually used to comment on it all the time when they first met and he didn’t know much about Peter at all – he’d tease the younger man about being a jumping spider, since he was so reactive.

(Peter later found out that, over the span of their friendship, Wade has done some impressively extensive research into different types of spiders and their characteristics, down to their eating habits and preferred environments. It’s still one of the most bizarre yet flattering things that anyone has ever done for him, and certainly hasn’t helped his Tony’s-ego-sized crush.) (More on that later.) (His crush, not the size of Tony’s ego.)

c) Shouldn’t he be more surprised and alarmed by the fact that Wade is apparently in his shitty, cold, creaky, one-room apartment at this time of day???

That last thought is enough to propel Peter into sitting up, despite the confusion still flitting through his mind. _What happened last night?_ he wonders, and it’s enough of an obscene-sounding thought that he can feel his face warming at the prospect.

Another weird thing that Peter discovers, trying to force himself out of bed and towards the source of Wade’s voice: his limbs don’t want to cooperate. His whole body is smothered in a thick layer of languor that doesn’t seem to dissipate no matter how much he wills it away. Lethargy clouds his mind and sticks up his joints so that – despite all odds – all he wants to do is go back to bed. Somehow. This is really weird.

“What’s weird?”

Ah. Apparently Peter’s mouth has opened of its own volition and decided to betray him too this morning. Add one to the tally, he supposes. Wade’s head appears in the doorway, followed by the rest of his body as he leans against the wall of the entryway. He toes off his boots, then raises one hand to reveal a bag full of something steaming and delightful (much like himself – ha, nice one, Parker!).

“If it’s me being here in the morning, or the fact that it’s this early in the morning and I’m actually awake, then that’s cool, baby boy, ‘cause now that I’ve got your breakfast here I’m fine with skedaddling. Actually, I was gonna try and do pancakes and stuff, but jeez, your fridge was so bare I just went on a quick run out instead. Just gotta make sure you get the most important day of the meal in, you know?”

Oh. That’s. A lot to process at once. Peter’s brain is still incredibly sleep-logged, which, again, _never happens_, so he’s struggling on multiple levels, here, but when he wracks his drowsy brain for memories, he comes up with a faint collection of sensations: cold, exhaustion, hunger, chased away by overwhelming warmth and a sense of relief.

“Oh my god, I totally used you as a human pillow and hit on you last night, didn’t I,” Peter blurts, immediately followed by, “I wasn’t one hundred percent awake when I woke up like five minutes ago and that’s what I thought was super weird, not you being here. I’m fine with that much. More than fine, actually. Stay. Please.”

As he speaks (word vomits, more like), Wade’s eyebrows rise higher and higher on his face until it looks like they’re about to take off, and his mouth curls into something like a suppressed smile. He’s an incredibly expressive man, which is one of the things that Peter loves…likes…_appreciates_ about him, but right now it’s killing him a little bit.

“Jeez, Petey, you really know how to make a gal feel special,” Wade says, blinking coyly, and that grin finally breaks through onto his face, bright and warm as ever, as he bridges the distance between them and crosses Peter’s studio apartment to sit down on the bed. His smile is contagious enough that Peter feels the corners of his mouth twitch upwards involuntarily, even as his bed creaks somewhat ominously at the re-addition of 200 pounds of muscle. “I can stay as long as you’d like, but you’ve got class today, don’tcha?”

“Wait, don’t just ignore the part where I talk about how I admitted my feelings for you last night,” Peter protests without thinking, and as soon as he registers the words _admitted my feelings for you_ leaving his mouth he claps his hands over the bottom half of his face and sinks with a groan forward into the mattress. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. This is not real. I’m dreaming and when I wake up you’ll be gone and I’ll be alone again so I can sit and think about how embarrassing my very not real dream was. This isn’t really happening.”

From his very comfortable spot in the still-warm blankets, he hears the bed shake with the force of Wade’s laugh – and that really gets his heart racing again, great – and then a large, warm hand places itself on his shoulder gently. “Damn, sleepy spiders really lose their filters, huh? I should get you in bed more often.”

Peter emits another sound that could be described as a groan, if it were heard by a person who did not know what a groan was. “_Wade_. Please don’t make this any harder for me than it has to be. I’m having a _feelings crisis_ right now.”

Even with his face buried in the bed, he can practically see the other man’s eyebrows wiggling as he replies, “Well. I could definitely make it _harder_ if you’d _really_ like, but I think that’s movin’ a little fast, and you know I’m a real old-fashioned kinda girl, Pete, I don’t put out until at least the third date, and that’s only if I really like the guy –“

At this point, Peter, who is by all measures an entirely good, kind, and well-deserving young man, decides he’s had enough. He does the only thing he can think of doing to shut Wade up and slams into him. Not forcefully at all, just enough to throw him off his game, but unfortunately his brain is only just coming into a state resembling “awake”, and all that really happens is that he rolls directly into his crush’s lap.

“Wade,” says Peter.

There’s a beat of silence, and he can feel the other man’s chest rise, hesitate, and then fall deeply before he receives a response. His thighs are, like, _super_ warm.

“Peter,” says Wade, and something about the way he says it is so tender it gives birth to a whole new Wade-feeling in his chest, something soft and sweet and warm that flutters against the weight of his ribs and taps at the back of his throat, feather-light.

Wade doesn’t use Peter’s full name, usually, or the Spider-Man moniker, either, for reasons he’s explained previously: “Peter” is what teachers, professors, colleagues, and classmates all call him. (Aunt May calls him it too, but she composes a category of her own.) “Spider-Man” refers just as much to a title, an urban legend and his legacy over the city, as it does to the man himself. Wade prefers names like “Pete”, “Petey”, “Petey-pie”, because they’re something special, just between them. Wade sees a side of him, Peter Parker and Spider-Man both, that no one else does.

At this point, he probably knows Peter better than Peter does.

“Wade,” he says again, slowly, tasting the name on his tongue, feeling its weight as it falls from his lips and sits in the space between them, heavy and bright all at the same time like a fallen star. “How long have you known I have…_feelings_ for you?”

Wade shifts his legs and moves so that Peter’s head is cushioned properly on his thighs and they can finally see each other’s faces for real.

“Baby boy, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear those words,” he breathes. “I’ve known since before you knew. Well, ‘s probably obvious at this point, since, with all due respect, Pete, you can be real dense for a guy with a sixth sense for danger.” The older man leans back, breathing out a heavy exhale. “Me? I knew that you were the one for me the moment I saw you hangin’ out on one of those rooftops, kickin’ it from the 30th floor like you were just sittin' on your front porch. And then again when I watched you petting a stray cat, and again when you stopped a bank robbery, and…you sorta get the idea, don’tcha?”

“You were a harder nut to crack. But when we started working together, I think I figured it out. You got a special kinda look around me that no one else ever sees. That night when you unmasked yourself to me – that’s when I knew for sure.”

“W – why didn’t you say anything?” Peter demands, but it comes out more petulant than anything else despite his best efforts, so he decides to just lean into it and pokes Wade in the chest with one of his knees, still swathed in yesterday’s Deadpool-print sweatpants. (An impulse purchase last year with the remains of his last paycheck, but _so_ worth the sound Wade made when he came over and saw that Peter owned them.)

“Wasn’t the right time, babes,” Wade replies easily. “No one is ever prepared for another person to break that kinda truth to them, y’know? You had to figure it out on your own. And I didn’t want to ever make you feel like I was coercing you into something, just ‘cause I knew it before you did.”

He leans down so Peter can feel the warmth of his breath. “Just sayin’, pretty much _everyone_ knew before you, though.”

“You talked about my love life?” he whines. The idea is enough to make him seriously debate just going back to sleep again to cut off this conversation now. “With who? Please don’t say MJ. Oh, my god, you and Johnny definitely gossiped about me, didn’t you? Actually, I change my mind, the name I really don't want you to say is Aunt May.”

Wade grins like a wolf, which is how Peter knows that he’s hit the nail on the head with all three. Fuck. Okay, he’s going to have some explaining to do.

More urgently, that means – Peter sits up, clears his throat, and tries to remember whether or not he brushed his teeth before he passed out last night. His chances seem a little dubious, but then again, he’s become intimately familiar with the sight of Wade’s insides on the outsides, so he’s sure that the other man doesn’t care much at this point. “Anyway. Now that you’re done, uh, embarrassing me more than usual, can we skip to the part where we, um–"

The grin spreads across Wade’s face until he’s smiling wider than Peter has ever seen before, so much that it seems like his cheeks must hurt. “Where we smooch? Yeah, I’ve been waitin’ on that one for a long time, too.”

They come together like breathing, the easy rise and fall of the waves, the ebb and flow of sunlight streaming in through Peter’s parted blinds. It’s a first kiss, so it’s clumsy in the way that all first kisses are; Wade is still beaming all the way through, which makes it a little awkward, but Peter is smiling back too, and really, by now he’s finding it difficult to care. At some point he feels his eyes shut and one of Wade’s hands finds its way to his cheek, touching with such care that Peter feels his skin turn to sea glass, worn down in Wade’s shape. Another creeps down to his ass and squeezes gently, in what he's sure is a monumental act of self-restraint on Wade's part.

When they pull apart a few seconds later, Peter feels lightheaded and giddy in a way that he hasn’t felt since he donned the Spider-Man suit for the first time all those years ago. It’s the same feeling of anticipation, the knowledge that he’s just discovered something with the potential to change his life. It’s joy and excitement wrapped up in one, inseparable from the feeling of contentment that plants itself firmly in his ribcage and sings to his heart.

He looks up and sees Wade smiling down at him, breathing more heavily than just a few minutes ago and watching with something indescribably soft in his eyes. It’s terrifying and empowering all at once to see that adoration in the ex-mercenary’s eyes. Peter has seen Wade at his worst and his lowest, has fought him bitterly and witnessed firsthand the ends the other man will go to in order to achieve his goals. Wade – _Deadpool _– can be, as Jameson might like to say, a menace, and Peter feels a heady rush at the power he now holds.

Maybe to prove it to himself, maybe just because he realizes that now he can, Peter leans up and plants a kiss to Wade’s cheek, which he accepts graciously, with the addition of a gratuitous smooching sound effect.

“I kind of wish we had waited to do that until after I was done with my finals,” Peter admits, sitting back on his heels and rubbing apologetically at the back of his neck, hoping that it’ll draw attention away from how warm his face has gotten. (He’s oblivious, not a fool; he doesn’t need a mirror or Wade’s gleeful expression to know that it doesn’t work.) “Now that I know this is an option, there’s no way that I’ll ever want to do anything else again.”

Wade makes a keening noise and retracts his hand from Peter’s behind to put it up to his face, fanning dramatically as he throws himself forward into Peter’s lap. “Oh no! First he’s putting off homework, then he’s avoiding studying for his fancy science tests…Next thing you know, Spider-Man will be too distracted by his badass, sexy boyfriend to protect the city from crime! Whatever will us weak, incompetent citizens do in these difficult times?” He projects his voice into an admirable falsetto and sighs melodically.

It’s deeply troubling that the whole production just makes Peter want to kiss him again. Instead, he elects to go for the attack of opportunity, taking advantage of the fact that Wade is draped over his lap to pull the older man forward and unfurl his own legs from under his body. In one smooth motion, Wade’s eyes are centimeters away from his, and Peter deliberately slots their legs together until their whole bodies are pressed flush against each other.

A cool, gratifying thing about spider-enhanced senses: Peter can literally hear the moment that Wade’s heartbeat kicks into double time just as strongly as he feels it, with the other man’s torso lying directly atop his own.

“Hi,” he says, and it comes out as a whisper.

“Hi yourself, Petey-pie,” Wade whispers back, and then his eyes shut and they’re kissing again.

This time Wade is on top, in the position that Peter has dragged them into, and the solid weight of his body is a refreshing contrast to the types of weight that Peter usually feels pressing down on his chest: that is, usually either 1) anxiety, 2) pieces of a building, 3) his binder fucking up and being way too tight, or, if he’s really lucky, 4) all of the above at once. Wade’s body cages him in, wraps him up in a cocoon of muscle and warmth, but it doesn’t feel confining. Instead it’s surprisingly grounding, and Peter takes to the feeling immediately, wiggling slightly until he’s as comfortable as his shitty, shitty mattress will allow him to be.

They’ve kind of gotten a handle on this whole kissing thing by now, too. Both of them have been forthcoming about their past love lives prior to this; Peter is under no illusion that this is the first time Wade has kissed anyone, and Wade knows the same.

But there’s a rhythm that they slip into almost instantly that’s new to both of them, and Peter immediately recognizes the sensation. It’s the familiarity that colors every part of their relationship, the ease with which they slip into banter, the trust that allows them to jump and dodge and fight together without hesitation. There’s a spark here too, something that Peter never really felt with MJ or Johnny (wow, he really has dated most of his friends), and it invites him to come back again, and again, and again each time after his eyes flutter open. 

“Damn, Pete, if I knew that all it would take to get us here was to kick down the temperature and catch ya before bed, I woulda been busting your heating and sliding in here all Cinderella-like ages ago,” Wade teases, flopping to the side after they’ve both recovered slightly.

“Wasn’t Cinderella trying to escape the ball before midnight, not crawling through the prince’s window?” Peter asks, trying and failing to keep his voice from slurring the syllables together. “’M not really following your metaphor here.”

Wade takes a moment to think about it, expression turning serious rapidly. “You’re right, baby boy, that doesn’t really make any sense, huh?” He scoots back towards Peter, close enough to boop their noses together once before he retreats once more. “Look, you got me so bad that I can’t even keep my Disney princesses straight. Who woulda thought we’d see the day?”

“Not meeeee,” Peter says, half-singing the word, and as he rolls back towards to Wade in search of warmth and more affection he realizes just how far he’s fallen back into sleepiness. His vision is already growing darker, eyes heavy-lidded as he blinks slowly and slots himself into the position of little spoon.

Distantly, he hears Wade squee a little bit, and it makes him giggle enough to jostle Wade’s chest behind his own. Still, those wonderful arms come to wrap around him, radiating heat into his smaller form even as the chill of New York winter permeates through the gaps in his window.

Wade presses a kiss to the side of his head as he feels himself drifting off, and it feels _right_, as easy and natural and meant to be as being Spider-Man or petting stray dogs or calling Aunt May or acing his biochem midterm. Life hasn’t always been kind to Peter, but it has given him so many gifts, and this is one that he plans to hold on to, for as long as he possibly can.

“Thanks,” he murmurs into Wade’s hand, which slows its mindless stroking against the line of his jaw. It’s quiet for a bit, and then he feels the rumble against his back as Wade responds.

“Well, I’d say you’re welcome, but I don’t even know what you’re thankin’ me for, Pete.” His tone is playful, but there’s a current running through it that feels more serious. Peter closes his eyes and traces a Spider-Man head, a Deadpool mask, and then a heart on the back of Wade’s hand and smiles when Wade draws a happy face back.

“Everything,” Peter says, and then the sounds of New York traffic and his drafty window shaking in the wind and his arguing neighbors fade to gray, and it’s just him and Wade in an apartment in the city, pressed together under the sheets in the early morning, hearts beating in tandem, sleeping for just a little longer.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading!! ; __ ;


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